Be My Queen
by Erullisse
Summary: There's more than one way to take over the world, and Loki finds it the first time he walks into a Vampire Bar - along with a woman right out of his dreams.


**Disclaimer** – OC's are mine. Everything else isn't. I rate "M" for a reason and all mistakes are my own.

Inspired by one of KittyinAz's 2015 Monthly Writing Challenges – Most Unlikely Pairing – but didn't get finished in time to be entered. There will be at least one more chapter. Enjoy! ~E~

 **~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~**

 **Be My Queen**

 ** _Because there's always more than one way_**

 ** _to take over the world . . ._**

 **~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~*~O~**

Loki jumped out of the truck and grinned like he'd just won a game of chess. FANGTASIA - The Bar with a Bite. The building was low and black and red, the air rank with a weird mix of beer vomit, sex, sweat and blood; exactly the distraction he needed after two months trapped in the back seat of a vehicle being punished by the S.H.I.E.L.D.

Not the least bit remorseful, he glanced back at the boringly black, government-issued Hummer. Drool ran down the glass where the driver's head was smashed up against the window. The second guard lolled over with his tongue stuck out like a sweating black lab. Impressive, what a good telepathic whallop could do. And seriously? As much damage as he inflicted on New York City, and this was the best the S.H.I.E.L.D could come up with? His scepter locked in some impenetrable vault, while guards dragged him all over the United States, determined to make him appreciate the diversity of humanity one chalked off square of dirt at a time?

 _Y.A.W.N._

Look at the humans? _Boring!_ Talk to the humans? _Boring!_ He'd poked holes through eighteen of the fifty states stamped on the pastel map taped to back of the guard's truck seat, and the most interesting thing he'd seen was a three-hundred pound woman in a muumuu pretending to talk to the dead at a County Fair, and a crop circle he recognized as the work of a few juvenile shadow demons from Noteratron. Though Loki actually was on the hunt for a human as he went skipping across the lot. Female. Soft, lush, curved. Disposable. Bedding one of the brainless little mortals would be as uncomplicated as a bat of his startling blue eyes, but hey – what could he say? Even a god had needs.

"And I do like!" came his wicked whisper as he jaunted through the door.

Cigarette smoke clung to a flat black ceiling, long twin bars packed shoulder-to-shoulder while waitresses in tight black tees wove through the maze of dancers and drinkers crowding round low, wood tables. Three dancers clad in nothing but black patent shorts and tape on their nipples wiggled on the stage.

Loki could practically hear Thor screaming in his ear as his eyes lit up with glee, but a petite blonde body-checked him not two steps in.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

Hip twisting beneath skin-tight black silk, she planted a four-inch Christian Louboutin pump on the floor like she was throwing down a gauntlet, ripping him with eyes like cold blue ice that crisped when they narrowed in on his hair, seemingly undecided on whether the wild, stuck up ends were supposed to be sexy, or just a sign of a mild electrical shock.

"Don't tell me," she oozed through lips the color of a pomegranate bursting with juice. "Somehow your tiny brain thought Halloween got switched with Christmas. Or are you too stupid to read the sign?"

For one of the few times in his life, Loki was at a loss for words. He felt like he needed a safe word! He was instantly enthralled.

"Jesus Christ. Don't tell me you're mute, too."

Sifting so fast he didn't see her move, the woman was instantly only inches away, hair as straight as a stick and blonde as fresh-plucked corn as she gracefully pointed at a large red and black sign strung round with Christmas lights bolted by the double entrance door. "No costumes. No exceptions."

Only, she was the exception to his every rule. Her voice was a bone-dry southern drawl. Her attitude as dismissive as if he was navel lint, when a hand hit her hip. And he couldn't telepathically glamour her to save his life. All he got was a large, empty - dead space?

"What in the heavens are you?"

"Pamela Swynford de Beaufort," she drawled as she leaned closer to take a good sniff. "And I asked you first."

"Indeed you did," Loki grinned, clasping his hands together less he burst into gleeful song as his heavy, green cape spread out behind him like the wings of a fallen angel and he continued to soak her in. "And I am but a God thrown out of his kingdom, cursed to a life on this Earth instead of one lived among the stars where I belong. Temporarily of course." He slid her a mischievous wink. "What can I say? A man goes out to have a good time, and everyone over-reacts as if it's the end of the world, or something! I do so hate to be misunderstood."

"You _should_ hate being an asshole!"

A loaded tray of beer mugs crashed to the floor, just before a busty blonde flew around Pam's shoulder, animated hands causing her perky, high ponytail to dance as her gasp flashed the gap between her two front teeth. "Ohmigod, Pam! Don't you know who that is?"

Pam hitched a hand on a black satin hip. "An idiot in a Halloween costume who wants to fuck me?"

For the life of him, Loki could not keep the smile off of his face.

"No! That's Loki. THE Loki. THAT Loki! The fallen god guy off T.V.!" The girl was using a loud scream-whisper. Everyone inside could hear her. Everyone outside could, too. "A few months ago, he almost blew up New York City! He's supposed to be in jail, or locked up wherever it is they put people who do things like that, so GODS! I don't know how in the heck he ended up here in Shreveport, but there is no way he came here to sleep with you. Loki Laufeysonwants to take over the world!"

"As far as I'm concerned, those are one and the same," Pam drawled.

"No, he definitely must be here for Eric," the freckled girl kept on in a babbling rant, as if the actual god-in-question wasn't standing a few feet away, listening to her every word. "Only Eric's out of town. He won't be back from the fall convention in Los Angeles for another week. Holy shit, what are we going to do?"

"Tell me who Eric is?" It was wrong, but Loki couldn't resist. Fairy sparkles practically fell out of the girl's magical little twat, and personally, he preferred angels. Or at least a woman who didn't work themselves into a state of near hysteria every time an escaped God walked into a bar.

"Eric Northman is the owner of this bar, almighty Viking, blond sex god, and the former Vampire Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five," Pam filled him in as she boringly inspected a nail, seemingly oblivious to the crowd now hovering about. Some snapped pictures. Others texted wildly on their phones. "And like Miss Sookie Smartass said, he's not available." She finally glanced up. "Eric was just promoted to Vampire King of Louisiana."

"Vampire King?"

Pam's mouth quirked at his quizzical look. "Yes. Every state has a vampire king. Twice a year, the kings meet at the Vampire Council of the States. Once a year, the States Council meets with the Vampire Council of the European Nations." She stopped to cock a shapely brow. "You do know what a vampire is, don't you? A nightwalker? The blood-drinkers?"

Loki gave an insanely curious shake of his head, Pam's fangs snapped over her deliciously plump lip, and his body nearly split his pants seams. "By the Gods!" He stared in awe at the two brilliantly white daggers just waiting to sink in his skin. "Do you intend to bite me with those?" Heavens, he did hope so! The mere thought of it had parts of him begging like a puppy desperate to be petted.

"We bite the bloodbags and use them for food." A snap backed off a gawker who'd ventured too close. "Though as you can see - they're excellent for killing, and sex is more interesting than it was in the past." Pam took a single step closer, flicking out her damp, pink tongue to play with a razor sharp edge. "But none of that is news. The whole universe has known about us since the Great Coming Out . . . all of the universe, but you."

"My apologies." Loki could barely croak out the words. "I must have been unavailable that day."

A wretched mistake, because excitement was boiling his throat closed as Loki surveyed the crowded bar and found dozens and dozens of vampires, magnificent nocturnal creatures with non-beating hearts in very mobile bodies with superhuman strength and blank minds just waiting for a god to tell them what to do.

" _By the Gods!"_ he murmured. _"There is an entire army of you. My children, awaiting me all of this time!"_

"Loki! You will not-!"

Not, indeed. A flick of his finger snapped Sookie's mouth shut as he flipped her telepathic ability back around, read her mind like a dollar store comic before wiping her face as blank as the bottom of his shoe. A pat to her head, and he sent her off to stare at the little Christmas tree with its flashing colored lights weirdly sitting under a Bud Light sign so she could quietly wait for her lover to return. Any other night, he would've wasted the night with his face buried in her bosom. But not tonight. Not when the very first vampire he'd ever met stood before him in all of her glory, and victory sat so sweet on the back of his tongue.

Loki glowed when he looped his arm through Pam's. "Now, Miss Pamela Swynford de Beaufort. You must tell me how you feel about being the Queen of the World."

"Queen?" Her voice stroked him as surely as a hand.

"Yes, _my_ Queen." Loki dared to bury his nose in her hair, drawing in a scent so crisp and sweet, like the entire bounty of his existence had been gifted to him in a deep and single breath. "Now bite me. Hard. Anywhere and as many times as you like."


End file.
